Hunting killer whales in Antarctica
We’re following killer whales, heading for Paradise Bay in Antarctica.
There are about 15 orcas in two pods, one ahead of the ship, and one off to starboard.
Whale expert Jonny Reid and naturalist Kristian Gillies are standing at the bow, then running from one side to another as pods surface, and the whales blow and duck under again.
Cameras poised.
I join them.
“They’re going really fast now,” says Kristian, his eyes alight. “Did you see that, Jonny?” He makes a horizontal rocket gesture with one cold hand.
It’s below freezing, we’re standing in ship wind, and the ends of my fingers have given up aching and are now pulsing with pain.
My two cameras are hanging in opposite diagonals on their straps — each ready to be picked up and used. They are both so cold that, when I do eventually go back to my cabin, I’ll leave them sealed in airtight bags to warm up slowly so they don’t draw in moisture.
The camera with the 18-150mm lens hasn’t had any use, but is on standby for closer action.
The other has a 1.4x extender on a 100-400mm lens, giving a maximum of a 560mm telephoto lens. With the pods several hundred metres ahead, this helps get close shots.
Camera IconThe Resolution’s bow. Credit: Stephen Scourfield/The West Australian
The ship follows the killer whales for an hour and gets very near them as they bunch up, giving me the close-up shots you see here.
The cameras are set on shutter speed priority, at 1250th of a second, and I cheat and flip the ISO to Auto. It’s not my preference, as you can lose control of quality, but in these fast-changing circumstances, it means I will get a well-enough exposed image as the light and the killer whales’ position changes.
All that technical stuff is second nature, and I just commit to the moment — to watching these rare whales, and absorbing this precious experience.
Camera IconKiller whales in the Gerlacht Strait. Credit: Stephen Scourfield/The West Australian
I have my puffer, outdoor jacket, hat and hood up, but the cold continues to eat into the bare fingertips exposed at the end of my fingerless gloves. I hold the camera down, behind a bit of ship steel, out of the wind, and then bring it up as groups of orcas surface.
Then there’s another shout from the naturalists: “Humpback to port. Eight o’clock.”
This, of course, refers to its position relative to the ship’s straight-ahead 12 o’clock, and I walk quickly to the port side with Jonny to see a humpback whale lifting its tale and smashing it on the surface, drawing attention to itself.
“This could be saying ‘go away’ to the killer whales,” Jonny says.
Camera IconA humpback whale in the Gerlacht Strait. Credit: Stephen Scourfield/The West Australian
He later explains: “This is still the start of the Antarctic season for the humpbacks. They are coming down from Costa Rica and Colombia, where they have been fasting in breeding grounds.”
Back in these frigid waters, they feed on krill — a small, shrimp-like animal that live for up to seven years. They eat algae that forms on the underside of sea ice. So the ice is the bases of this huge biomass of krill, driving the whole ecosystem here.
Krill is a diurnal vertical migrator — spending the day in deep water and coming up closer to the surface at night, making this a more energy-efficient time for humpbacks to feed.
A humpback whale might eat 2500kg of krill a day.
The ship I’m on has two Azipods at the stern and two powerful bow thrusters. The Azipods are electric motors with propellers that turn through 360 degrees (replacing the old “twin screw” propeller set-up that most expedition ships used to have). They can spin the ship on a sixpence.
The bow thrusters are propellers set “lengthwise” at the bow of the vessel which very effectively move the front of the ship. Combined, they give the crew every tool they need to follow the killer whales at a respectful distance, and very quietly.
They are ahead of the ship, and then the pod to the right seems to become more animated, and suddenly they are alongside. The ship tracks at the same speed, and I am in the wing of deck five with Jonny, shooting the pictures you see here.
Jonny grew up on the west coast of England, searching through beach rock pools.
His interest in marine life grew, and he completed his BSc in marine biology and coastal zone management. Interested in new fieldwork techniques, he spent five years working on projects around the world and developing a passion for marine mammal acoustics.
He returned to university to complete an MSc in marine mammal science at St Andrews, Scotland, and was then involved in big acoustic and visual line transect surveys for marine mammals in the Mediterranean Sea and along the east coast of the US. These determine distribution and estimate population sizes.
When he’s not on the ship as an expedition team member, Jonny splits his time between the Lake District in England and the Isle of Mull in Scotland.
The two killer whale pods head in very different directions.
Camera IconKiller whales in the Gerlacht Strait. Credit: Stephen Scourfield/The West Australian
The one that was just in front of the bow of the ship is now way ahead — but the second, smaller pod swims off to starboard, and eventually alongside the ship, quite close.
Camera IconKiller whales in the Gerlacht Strait. Credit: Stephen Scourfield/The West Australian
Jonny, Kristian and I are shooting images, focusing carefully, shooting more. I hear the other two’s cameras on rapid-fire, but I like single shots, picking my moments. I look through the viewfinder with my right eye, but when I’m using a long lens, I keep my left eye open too, so I can see what is happening outside the camera viewfinder’s range.
Camera IconKiller whales in the Gerlacht Strait. Credit: Stephen Scourfield/The West Australian
There are five types of killer whale in Antarctica, but only three found in these waters, near the peninsula south of South America. Unromantically, these eco types are called A, B1 and B2.
Type A have black and white markings and an eye patch, and hunt and kill other whales.
Type B1 are quite big and mostly hunt seals. They like the pack ice and mostly stay in small pods.
Type B2 are more often in bigger groups, and will hunt penguins, seals and fish.
It is thought killer whales are the only whale species to breed in Antarctic waters.
These are B2s, which live in groups of 10-50 and feed on penguins, among other things.
“There are only about 740 individuals,” says Jonny. “And there are only about 100 B1s.”
These numbers may also be in decline because of the loss of sea ice as the planet warms.
The distinctively thin, pointed fins of five killer whales rise and arch together, and then vanish again into the cold, inky water.
Camera IconA humpback whale in the Gerlacht Strait. Credit: Stephen Scourfield/The West Australian
Source link
#Hunting #killer #whales #Antarctica